Child's Play
by Blissful Lissy
Summary: Written for the DN Kink Meme. "What starts out as simple bullying of Near eventually dissolves into Mello taking Near behind the tool shed while Matt smokes and keeps a lookout." Lemon smut, obviously. Mello/Near, Matt/Near


**Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note.**

_A/N: Wrote this for the DN Anonymous Kink Meme because I loved the idea. I'm not very pleased with it, unfortunately, but I'm not pleased with much these days, so I might be being too hard on myself. Never had much of an opinion on Matt/Near before this, but now I think it's cute. It's growing on me._

_Here's what the Anonymous requester wanted: Mello & Matt x Near. What starts out as simple bullying of Near during afternoon recess eventually dissolves into Mello fucking Near behind the tool shed while Matt smokes and keeps a lookout. Anon requester would like for it to be dub-con, but with the eventual realization that Near knew what was going to happen and possibly even baited Mello so it would come to that. Anon would __also__ like Matt to be nervous and worried about Near's well-being (thinking that it's non-con), but nevertheless turned-on by it.  
__In kink meme terms: rough anal, dub-con, reluctant arousal on Matt's part. Bonus points if Matt gets some action after Mello's done, EXTRA bonus if it's because Near offers, and TRIPLE bonus if Matt has a crush on Near._

* * *

Any other person might have asked themselves: Why me?

But Matt was not any other person, nor was he selfish enough to even have a thought such as that cross his mind. Or maybe he was just too naïve.

Because leaning against that shaky tool shed wall, cigarette jammed too tightly between two shaking fingers, he could _hear_ them, clear as the day was long. He might not have been able to match the sounds with specific actions, but he could hear them.

He should have known something was amiss when he first saw Near outside, not hiding inside the protective shell of Wammy's. But it hardly concerned Matt at the time because the way the albino's fair skin almost seemed to glow in the cooling sun of late afternoon served as a diversion.

The way Near sat, hugging a knee to his chest. How he so indolently twisted cotton-soft hair round and round an index finger. Such simple, childish acts shouldn't be enticing and alluring.

What would it feel like, Matt wondered, to have those nimble fingers dancing across the sensitive flesh of his stomach and hips? Would they cause any friction at all, those slim digits?

He couldn't dwell on it. Couldn't have his face match the rusty red of his hair. Not because of Near.

Did Mello overlook the oddity of Near voluntarily partaking in the afternoon activities that most of the orphans enjoyed and took full advantage of? If he had picked up on the strangeness, which Matt didn't doubt he had, he made no mention.

But what Mello didn't notice was Matt's discomfort. He was too blinded with the shining light of opportunity.

It might not have been one of his better decisions to follow Mello's lead as the blond firecracker approached Near. But the idea of not complying with Mello made no appearance in Matt's mind.

It wasn't that he was a weak person. He wasn't. Mello was his best friend and he, the ever-loyal puppy, wasn't one to object to the mastermind behind the majority of their notorious endeavors.

And if it meant getting close to Near, well, so much the better.

They loomed over Near and soft grey hues barely did them the courtesy of acknowledging their presence. The methodical curling of hair around a finger sped up, if only by a fraction of a second.

A lock of hair was tucked femininely behind Mello's ear. Remnants of a recent chocolate bar stained bittersweet at the corner of his mouth. But the devout Catholic could put any demon to shame, his gaze predatory as he peered his blue eyes down at a small and hunched albino.

Matt tried to shrink into himself, but it was for naught. It was all Mello and Near now. Mello and Near and their tireless games of cat-and-mouse, leaving Matt standing to observe awkwardly from the sidelines.

It was nothing new. A growled jeer from Mello earned a subtle taunt from Near, blank stare and hushed monotone exaggerating the aura of indifference Near radiated.

Matt was appreciative of the goggles that obscured his eyes. Grateful for the tinted plastic frames snapped snugly around his head. He didn't feel quite as obligated to let his orbs dart back and forth as if watching an equally matched game of table tennis.

Being witness to the exchange was uncomfortable. It always was. Fire and innate chemistry sparking between successor numbers one and two had the hot blade of envy twisting in the pit of his stripe-clad stomach.

They only had eyes for each other when they were like this; or any other time, really. Eyes filled with contempt and disgust and annoyance and rivalry and maybe something deeper, but the simple fact that they were solely focused on one another was what concerned Matt.

Mello's arm stretched outward, wrenched Near's arm, forced the boy into a standing position. A jerk of his pointed chin, a quick "help me," and the gamer was doing the same to Near's other arm, albeit with a bit more tenderness.

Pressed between their bodies, Matt could sense the albino's weak muscles tensing, the only betrayal of possible emotion. Felt a pang of guilt.

"Behind the tool shed," Mello instructed. They began marching Near across the grounds. It was futile to struggle against the older, stronger boys. Near knew it and did his part to make the trek a taxing one, his body going ragdoll-limp. There was no telling if it was an act of compliance or rebellion.

The tool shed was a lovely little spot, at least for what Mello was planning. Irate crabgrass overgrown and ensnaring rusted and forgotten watering cans, spades and other various utensils; the shed itself, made of drooping tin, featuring splintering wooden slats for doors. Those doors groaned in the progressively strong breeze that sent the planks banging a harsh cacophony against the deteriorating, tarnished silver walls.

A hissed order from Mello and the redhead was leaning against the side of the shed and playing lookout. To see what Mello and Near were up to behind the length of the decrepit structure would cost Matt just a simple crane of the neck. Listening in on their interactions would be even less of a chore.

It was hard to resist. Damn near impossible, in fact. Matt justified his actions internally, peered out beyond his side of the shed to feast his eyes on whatever scene Mello would cook up.

Tawny fingers sunken into snowy locks. Grisly cracks as Mello slammed Near's skull into the shed wall. Matt couldn't suppress a wince; was that the sound of Near's whimper or a creak of the building?

Matt was nervous. Guilt gnawed at him as he stood idly by, did nothing to rescue Near from the abuse that was, from what Matt could see, so much more intense when the two were alone. It gnawed at him as his loyalty to Mello wavered.

The albino didn't show any sign of giving in yet, but those wiry muscles of Mello's would have the stubborn boy buckling within minutes, Matt was sure.

With self-disgust, Matt realized that he was admiring Near. Admiring the way he was endearingly crumpled and helpless against the wall at Mello's mercy. White garments were slightly askew, wrinkled from all the fuss, exposing white shoulders. They had hardly seen the sun, those shoulders. They'd never been dirtied by heated touches and eager lips. Or had they?

"You know, Near," Mello hissed, "you're so pale, it'd look strange for you to have been outside and go back in without a sunburn." A sharp slap to the face left Near's pale cheek glowing cherry. He was rewarded with a single blink, but Mello went right on smirking. "That ought to do nicely."

"Is this about what happened in class today?" Matt missed any emotion that might have been found in the sentence. The bright red handprint, contrasting prettily with a milky white cheek, was all he could focus on.

Icy eyes narrowed. Mello's knuckles whitened, grasp firm on the front of Near's shirt. "You're no better than I am, Near. You just got lucky on that exam." Matt's brow creased. It sounded as if the two were speaking in code.

The smaller boy's voice hardly concealed his amusement now. "Then Mello is suggesting that I am continually blessed with good fortune." A hand rose, perhaps to wind a finger in a white curl.

Mello gripped the delicate wrist, stopped it dead in its tracks, used the gained leverage to pull the frail boy into him. The obscenity he blurted was muffled as his mouth crushed to Near's.

Matt's jaw unhinged; his chest seemed to tighten. Though his goggles gave everything a gold tint, he was seeing green. Mello sucked Near's bottom lip into his mouth and bit down. Near's blood trickled down the blond's chin when he pulled away from the kiss; a scarlet river of sin.

"Mello, this is cruel." Near's voice was hushed; his eyes slid inconspicuously to Matt's face peeking from around the corner.

Mello whipped his head to follow the grey gaze and it blurred blond. "Matt, you idiot, you're supposed to be keeping watch," he simply said, voice taking on a harsh tone. Didn't bother to release his hold on Near, neglected to wipe the blood from his chin.

Matt's face burned with shame.

And that's how he ended up there, ducked guiltily behind his wall, inhaling smoke from a cigarette pressed firmly between trembling fingers. He breathed in deeply, letting toxins calm frayed nerves.

He was nervous for Near and worried about what Mello might do to him, but the part of him that should be disgusted by the scene that unfolded before him was replaced with a tingle in his groin and an excited warmth surfacing on his skin.

Inhaling the smoke deep into his lungs gave him a second wind, but even the soothing act didn't block out the sounds that drifted from behind the tool shed into Matt's thirsty, straining ears.

He tried to quash his imagination, overactive thanks to too many hours crouched over a video game screen; shivered as a breeze bit his skin through loose, striped material.

_Clang._

A watering can kicked carelessly against the tin of the wall.

_Swish. _

Strong wind coursing between curling tree leaves.

"Ah!"

Could be explained as –

He wasn't kidding himself. With a muttered "Mello be damned," Matt allowed his curiosity and concern to get the better of him and, snuffing out his cigarette on the feeble shed wall, craned his neck with intent to spy.

Something coiled in Matt's abdomen. Green eyes, muddied olive from the yellowish tint of the goggle lenses, narrowed into focus. The worry in his head contrasted with the tightness in his pants.

He saw Near's pale frame, slammed even more firmly against the wall. Mello's hands placed on the smaller boy's bare white shoulders in a grip most unforgiving. White button-up pajama top, thrown to the mercy of tetchy crabgrass.

Nose-to-nose, number two to one, gold to silver, intense fire to calm sea.

Taunts spilled out of Mello's smirk-shaped mouth and Near made a feeble attempt to shove the blond away. The act of defiance had blond wisps standing on end, the fine tips crackling, sparking. The sharp, attractive features of Mello's face twisted ugly with a sneer.

A roll of black-clad shoulders threw Near's hands off easily. Those hands froze in mid-air, unsure of what to do because Mello attacked his throat and assaulted it with nips and licks and lips pressing much too hard against the china-doll frailty of that neck. The blossoming marks would be much too high to be covered with a shirt collar. Mello knew it. Near knew it. Matt knew it and despised it.

Mello's finger trailed its way slowly, ever-so slowly, down tens of hundreds of miles of lily skin. Matt couldn't tear his eyes away, didn't want to. Bubbles of bitterness swelled and popped in his chest as Mello's finger would make a quick pause to dig a nail into the soft flesh of Near's torso and leave a tiny nick, a bit of blood in its wake. At his sides, Matt's own fingers were twitching with want.

Long fingers that did not belong to a redheaded gamer paused at the waistband of Near's white pants, plucked at them like they would harp strings; gently, but purposefully. Those fingers had a goal, but were willing to wait. They fluttered deftly around the white-haired boy's navel, up and down his sides, flirted with his smooth chest.

Eyes screwed tightly shut, Near's breath seemed to hitch at every movement Mello made.

He looked so helpless.

So confused.

So abnormally…_affected._

And Matt detested himself for loving every second of it.

Self-loathing took a backseat to fascination, because Mello was tugging off his black trousers, doing away with baggy white pajama bottoms. He was exposing goose bump-ridden skin, both pale and sun-kissed. Icy winds, cold as Mello's azure eyes, met bare flesh.

Quivering knees dug into cold tin when Mello flipped Near so his chest met the wall. Green eyes, now the size of saucers behind yellow lenses, roamed greedily over Near's exposed flesh and whatever bare skin Mello was letting show. He didn't realize how firmly he was grasping the rusty corner of the shed until he felt warm liquid flowing down his arm; the palm of his hand sported a long, thin gash, but the adrenaline pumping through his veins nullified pain that should have come.

One could mistake Mello's actions as loving, the way he let his hands explore Near's body as if appreciating the pure, flawless skin. Soft touches didn't suit Mello for long, if at all, and he placed feverish grips on the small boy's hips. Contusions would be sure to form, but Matt had no time to dwell on the thought as Mello thrust into Near. No preparation, no lubrication, no warning.

A sharp gasp attributed to Near's surprise, the pain he was in made obvious. Beads of sweat rolled down the adorably flushed face; muscles seemed to seize during and shortly after penetration. Pitiful scrabbling sounds resulted as short nails clawed at the wall when Near, now bent subtly over, made a last-ditch effort to steady his shaking self.

Matt didn't understand why his own erection was straining so insistently against his pants when he was so horribly aware of the wrongness of the act he was witnessing. Mello was _raping_ Near, for fuck's sake! It wasn't hot, Matt told himself, but his twitching member seemed to disagree.

The composure Near maintained was slipping. With each thrust of Mello's erection into his body, his whimpers, which had initially been almost non-existent, increased in volume and intensity. And the blond wasn't taking it easy on his counterpart, shoving mercilessly into Near at a quick and frenzied pace. He didn't even seem to be trying to hit Near's prostate, and Matt wondered if he was just trying to squeeze in as much pain and humiliation as possible in whatever time frame Mello had set.

That was when Near moaned; a soft, breathy prolonged whimper of the blond's name. "Mello..."

Almost immediately, Mello eased up; rough grip on Near's hips was loosened, hands alternated in exploring Near's back almost tenderly. The fingerprints Mello had left on the albino's pelvis began to bruise in reds and purples. Near's spine straightened, Mello pulled the smaller boy to rest against his chest.

Gold and platinum mingled as the two shared a hungry kiss. Dirty pictures of how pretty Near looked impaled on his length were breathed into the shell of the albino's ear, as were chants, haunting lullabies that might be soothing had they been whispered to someone other than Near, or come out of the mouth of someone who was not Mello.

Movements, however, almost seemed to contrast with the more gentle treatment. The thrusts were just as harsh and frenzied. Desperation hinted at Near's usually monotone voice when Mello would make a decisive thrust, make brief and precious contact with a needy bundle of nerves.

Matt's eyes wandered to Near's groin as Mello seized it, began to administer deft strokes. It barely registered that Near's member was stiff long before Mello began to lavish it with nimble-fingered affection. It didn't register that the white-haired boy had laced his fingers into Mello's long ago.

Fingers continuing to work at Near's arousal, Mello gave a moan of his own. Stubbornly, he was refusing to submit to orgasm before Near, his legs that trembled with the effort of his thrusts and need to release attested to it.

"Near," Mello panted, and Matt was surprised at the passion with which the blond spoke. "…_come._"

The response was so instantaneous, it seemed Near had been waiting for a cue. He shuddered, gave an arch of his back and spilled into Mello's slowing hand, staining the shed wall in the process. Mello's sweaty fringe met Near's shoulder.

Matt didn't know who had reached orgasm and given in first; suspected not even the two spent boys with heaving chests and heavy-lidded eyes knew.

And then he retreated yet again behind the wall and listened for more sounds as his legs shifted in vain attempt to hide his prominent erection. Lit another cigarette to redirect himself.

But he didn't hear Near's murmur, more insistent this time, "Mello is cruel." Didn't see Near's slim chest swell indignantly as Mello responded, "No more than you." Didn't feel his heart drop because he didn't play witness to the last kiss they shared, quick and hungry.

Mello emerged from behind the shed, snatched the cigarette out of Matt's hand for himself and proceeded to take long drags on it as he walked away. It didn't seem as if he expected the redhead to follow.

Matt waited, concerned if Near was going to be alright, but not really eager to stick around.

A white-clad figure appeared, seemed surprised to see Matt still standing there, stupidly and awkwardly.

Matt felt he should say something, but what? He jolted at the feeling of thin fingers on his hand.

"Near, what--"

"Matt is bleeding." The small boy studied the gash as if it were a text book. Then his lips were against the wound, soothing it with soft lips and tongue.

His face flared and goggled eyes looked anywhere but at the white-haired prodigy. "I-I'm fine, I'm okay. Near--"

"Would Matt like some help with this?" Near didn't wait for an answer, just grinded the heel of his palm against the bulge in the denim.

It all proved too much: the worry, the arousal, the feeling of Near's lips at his palm and hand at his groin and Matt was coming hard, groaning, finding relief at a sudden action from an unexpected person.

Shuddering subsided and Matt felt compelled to reach for the albino, kiss him, make him touch him again and again until the things Mello had done to him behind that tool shed were but a hazy memory. The serious expression on Near's pale face stopped him.

"Matt should really have the nurse look at that," he said solemnly, gracing the cut palm of Matt's calloused gamer's hand with his lips once again.

Then Near walked away, feeling quite smug. He'd like Mello to try and call him cruel now.


End file.
